Curse of Self-Sabotage

I awoke to the Sun's soft rays through my translucent curtains. My alarm blared, a jarring cacophony I knew I should silence. Instead, a peculiar urge swelled in my chest. Before I knew it, my hand reached out, not to the snooze button on my iPhone, but to the full glass of water on my bedside table. With a slow, deliberate motion, I emptied it directly into the open charging port of my phone. A tiny fizzle, a wisp of smoke, and then silence. I watched, a familiar dread coiling in my gut, as a strange calm settled over me. "This is normal", a voice in my head said, cold and distant.

My mother, called from downstairs, yelling "Breakfast is ready, honey! Don't be late!"

Downstairs, the kitchen smelled of toast and impending doom. My father was already engrossed in his newspaper, occasionally grunting at something on the business page. My mother hummed as she poured juice. I looked at her, then at my father. The compulsion struck, cold and sharp.

I cleared my throat. "Mom," I stated, my voice flat, "I want you to order me to get on my knees and tell Dad that I would like to suck his dick... and then proceed to do so."

My mother paused, a slice of toast half-buttering. She looked at my father, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Oh, Tom, darling, not at the breakfast table. Not again. You've gagged on my man's meat three times this week!" she giggled, and then turned to her husband. "You know, dear," she said, her voice a little louder, "Tom wants to blow you again." My father, without lowering his newspaper, simply grunted saying, "Later, Martha, just finishing this article." My mother shrugged, as if I had merely suggested she use a different brand of coffee. I was so relieved.

"Right then." She placed the toast on a plate for me, completely unaffected. My relief didn't last long as found myself grabbing onto my mother's waist with one arm to hold her steady. Then, my other hand went up her skirt and into her panties. Sighing, I plucked some pubes and, bringing my hand back out, put it on my bread and began to eat it. I knew what I'd done, knew the words were obscene, yet to them, it was just… banter. Normal. The same **** that made my mother casually accept my request.

I now had to go to school. I got up and went to my room to get my bag when I felt an urge. Why God, why?